


Heavy Ammo

by BethAdastra



Series: 2157: Prompts & Oneshots [2]
Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Also Guest Starring Three Unfortunate Mercs, F/M, Guest Starring a Widow Sniper Rifle, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, kink prompts, weapon play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-10
Updated: 2017-11-10
Packaged: 2019-01-31 10:57:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12680490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BethAdastra/pseuds/BethAdastra
Summary: A collection of writing prompts (beware, some nsfw)A prompt for weapon play: guest starring a sniper rifle that gets shared between our favorite Commander and her hot-headed turian.





	Heavy Ammo

**Author's Note:**

> Slowly working my way through some kink/nsfw prompts!
> 
> I wrote this one surprisingly fast, so any typos or writing weirdness are my own oversight. Enjoy!

“Well _hot damn,_ Vakarian!” Shepard crowed.

Nearly a hundred yards out, across a short stretch of jungle and a long stretch of open terrain, a red sand storage unit exploded into an ugly plume of black and orange and hot, burning red. Shepard had been tracking down the location for nearly a week, and the fruits of her labor were finally being collected. After dealing with the Collectors, practically every mission was like a play date. Grab the squad, find the bad guys. Shoot and stab. Go home. Lather, rinse, repeat.

But it wasn’t all bad. When she wasn’t barking orders or throwing used thermal clips around, she spent her time with her legs wrapped around Garrus Vakarian’s waist.

It was like a star gone supernova. He would hum over her shoulder, tilt his face down to hers, and she was lost the moment her mouth met with his. And she didn’t let it stop, wouldn’t let it stop, until they were on the floor, naked and sweating and panting, and clutching each other tight. It was then, and only then, that Shepard felt at peace.

In comparison to that, being encased in armor, cramped and crawling through the dirt next to him was a special kind of torture. Every well-placed bullet was a small victory, and they were taking them in in spades. All they had left to do at this point was eliminate any of the assholes that didn’t outright burn in the warehouse, and all that required was a fresh clip of ammo and some patience.

It was enough to get her blood pumping.

Of course, it was just her luck that the blood was all pumping away from her brain, and oh-so-inconveniently towards her groin.

“I want to try that rifle.” She blurted, pointing at his custom built Widow while they waited. Compared to its human counterpart, which was currently strapped to her right shoulder, the original turian Widow was longer, heavier, and the butt was cut to fit against a bony carapace.

In the distance, the sand warehouse rumbled, and began caving in on itself. Garrus blinked, and curled his talons around his prized weapon with a look of general disinterest.

“Not on your life, Shepard.”

_“Please,_ Garrus,” she teased, biting her lip and feeling saucier than usual, “you know I take good care of your guns… and I’m more than capable of handling your… ammunition.”

She made sure to make each word as lewd and suggestive as possible, stepping closer with every other word. Her reward was the look on his face. He was dumbfounded, with his mandibles slack and his eyes wide.

“Please tell me you cut off your Normandy comm link before saying that.”

She tapped her temple and gave him a winning smile. “Of course I did. No need to advertise how… interested I am in you at this very moment to the entire crew.”

“Spirits…” he hissed, shaking his head. For a moment, he regarded her. And though she didn’t think it right then and there, it was probably her greatest victory at that point to have Garrus Vakarian even _consider_ letting her shoot his prized rifle. But in the moment, all she could think about were his blue eyes, and how she suddenly felt more than a little naked in front of him.

He cursed something that didn’t fully translate, and stepped forward to grip her shoulder.

“Get on your knees.”

Pure arousal mixed with smug satisfaction, and she sidled down into his shooting perch while he followed after. Feeling like a carefree teenager, she let herself press and lean against every part of him that she could while he settled into a comfortable shooting position. After a minute, she was rewarded with one of his mandibles tickling the underside of her jaw.

“Shift your shoulder a little,” he purred into her neck, “otherwise you’ll bruise.”

“This isn’t my first rodeo, Vakarian.”

“I’m pretty sure this is your first time shooting a rifle built and calibrated for a turian.”

She wiggled a little, but conceded. She would have liked to make a dirty joke about it not technically being her first time handling turian equipment, but the last thing she needed on this mission was a shattered collarbone or a broken arm. “Fine. You holster it. But let me scope.”

His laugh was delicious.

She let him settle into a comfortable position before shifting so that she was pressed against him, her eye pressed to the rifle scope while he held the gun. Of course, it was an awkward angle because she didn’t want to be caught taking any of the kickback, so she had to hold herself over the rifle while she looked, her arms bent like a bulldog and her ass pressing enough against her turian counterpart that it made even her feel a little forward.

“We’ve got the three guys left, heading for that shuttle. All armed. Closest one is about 75 out on your ten.”

He hummed in acknowledgement, and shifted the gun. But without the scope, he couldn’t fully hone in on his target, so Shepard helped. Her left arm came up, and guided the rifle until one poor soul was caught in the crosshairs.

“Got it,” she murmured.

Garrus didn’t even warn her when he shot. The heat and force of the bullet shook her entire arm, and she yelped. No amount of training had ever prepared her for sharing a rifle with a turian, and her dignity took a hit when she let the shot surprise her. And she knew he did it on purpose. Out of all the sentient beings in the universe, this was the only one she seemed to want to impress, and he was making it difficult by being cocky. Typical turian, she thought.

When she glanced up, she was at least pleased to see that her chosen target was now missing a head, and sprawled on the ground. There were two mercs left.

The aggravating turian that was her current gunner, decided to make good use of his non-trigger hand by gripping Shepard’s rump. Firmly. Her eyes caught his, and they shared in a silent promise of exactly what they were going to do to each other once they were alone and off of this god-forsaken planet.

Rocks and dirt scattered up only a yard away, and they both heard the whizz of stray bullets as they ricocheted. The remaining mercs weren’t messing around.

“Jesus FUCK!” she snarled as she slid all the way down on her belly, pushing Garrus back but keeping them both out of sight.

She let him take over; she wasn’t stupid enough to think that they were bulletproof, even if they were the saviors of the galaxy and high on their own pheromones. It was surprising to see how quickly Garrus could set himself up for a shot when she was so close to him. The intent in his eyes was deadly, and it did wonderful things to her insides.

He balanced himself by keeping his right leg straight, but bending the knee of his left so that it slid up and out, covering one of her own legs and starting to press right between her…

_“Ohhh,”_ she gasped.

Garrus feigned innocence; or, he was just so damn good at concentrating that the distraction of his commander in full arousal didn’t keep him from setting his sights. It only took a second. From the moment the words escaped Shepard’s mouth, to her quick intake of breath, he had locked on, found the trigger, and pulled.

She didn’t have to look to know that a second body had fallen.

The boom of the rifle jolted through his wiry arms, echoing into Shepard’s whole body. She had spent enough time around guns to know the feel of them firing, and she was deeply grateful that it was his shoulder that took the brunt of the force. She could almost see how the kickback would give the slightest bend in his elbow. The tiniest twitch of his mandibles. The tight, careful shift in his hips as he readjusted- 

“Don’t forget to breathe, Shepard.”

The sound that came out of her was very un-Shepardlike. Somewhere halfway between a laugh and a moan, she managed to twist a little so that she was looking at him.

His mouth mashed into hers, and somehow Shepard found it within her to arch into him as his tongue pressed against hers. For a few seconds, she savored the taste and smell of him, and even indulged herself and let a hand rise up to touch his face.

His trigger hand took her own, and slid her fingers to the grip of the gun. She breathed deep through her nose, she knew that this was a rare opportunity, and she didn’t want to waste it. Garrus kept his left arm bent enough to hold his own weight while he balanced the gun against his right shoulder and looked out the scope. The view of an apex predator on the hunt sent a chill down Shepard’s spine.

So when she felt his now-free hand unclip the buckle at her hips, and slip down her underarmor to the joining of her legs, she considered it a miracle that she didn’t pull the trigger then and there. Trapped by his body weight, with the threat of a turian sniper rifle’s kickback right above her head and nothing but his trust and careful talons keeping them afloat, she had to pace her breathing while he pressed through the fabric at her groin.

Without removing his eye from the scope, he hummed, “You’re already wet.”

She grit her teeth. “Damn you, Vakarian.”

All her curse did was encourage him. He rubbed along an invisible panty line before pressing a knuckle into the center, right where all of her heat seemed to be escaping from. She gasped, and was unabashed when she felt her hips buck into him when he continued, creating a slow but steady pulse. She didn’t know how long she could last like this, knowing he held a gun in one hand and her cunt in the other.

“Garrus, please…”

“Hush, almost there.” With his eye still glued to his target, his talons deftly moved to her clit, and even through the fabric, she felt a magnificent heat and electricity from his hand as he toyed with her. Whether it went on like that for a few seconds or a few hours, she had no idea. Only his voice was able to break her from the trance that lust had put her in.

“Pull the trigger.”

His head dipped down, and he kissed her while the rifle was still pressed into his shoulder and his hand was still pleasuring her. It was too much. Her index finger only had to brush the trigger, and she felt the kick like falling into a pool of ice water. It shook Garrus through and through, all the way down his arm to his talons where he was as close to fucking her fully clothed as he could possibly be. The shock, the heat of the gun, the entirely different heat of his mouth and hand and his body… she must have made a vulgar sound, because his laugh was a deep rumble, and she felt his hips roll against hers.

Somehow, he had managed to line up the rifle with their final target while getting her off, and left the final shot to her. It was inexplicably arousing.

They lay like that for a few minutes, savoring the afterglow of both the battle and the foreplay, before Shepard groaned and called for a shuttle.

They began cleaning their rifles as soon as they returned to the Normandy, taking great care to check their armor and pistols for any damage. But when they got to the Widow, they didn’t finish. The cold metal was swept away, and Shepard took the Widow’s place on the table for the evening.


End file.
